


Jurassic Park and Star Trek

by JQ (musicmillennia)



Series: Smol Dragon Barry 'verse [17]
Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Dragons, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Prepare for a Clusterfuck, Reunions, The Vanishing Point is Not Fun, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-03
Updated: 2017-05-30
Packaged: 2018-07-19 18:44:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7373203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musicmillennia/pseuds/JQ
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A mysterious dragon, a missing rider, and the bottom of Vanishing Point. What could go wrong?</p>
<p>(Everything. Everything could go wrong.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. "They say any landing you can walk from is a good one."

**Author's Note:**

> (Quote by Alan Shepard)
> 
> The title will make sense in due time.   
> Welcome back to a longer fic for Smol Dragon Barry! I hope you like Gideon, Rip, and Jonah's first appearances! :D

Summer is by far the worst season for riders and handlers.

"No it's not, Leonard."

Not only does Central host the worst heat waves outta the Twins, there's also the fact that every unfortunate human companion has to keep applying their equipment.

"No, we don't.  _You're_  the only one who does."

Therefore, here Len stands, in his well-worn leather shoulder pads that itch with sweat. His right arm brace pinches, and Len can't put some softer fabric under it 'cause that'd make things hotter.

"Literally nobody asked you to do that."

He grits his teeth. " _Sara_."

Sara smirks, " _Leonard_." when she sees his deepening scowl, she bumps shoulders and says, "Come on. You're  _half-dragon_. You can get this stuff off and just carry Barry around on your scales."

Len side-eyes her. He repeats, " _Sara_."

"Yeah, you're an Ice, but so's your mom. She's not having any trouble."

As if to demonstrate her point, Sierra appears. She glides gracefully across the yard, scarred scales glittering under the baking sun. There isn't a single hint of strain in her form; not even a hint of marring pain on her beautiful draconic face.

Sometimes Len wonders how something as beautiful as Sierra could've mothered something like him.

The second this thought flickers in his head, a squawk peeps behind Len and Sara from the adult feeding grounds. Len figures they have about five seconds tops.

At least this means he'll get the last word before the landing. "My mother is also as old as Bridgforth."

" _Len_!"

Len purses his lips to keep from making any undignified sounds as Barry slams into him. Fortunately he'd turned around in time to catch the little dragon; _un_ fortunately, his wings instinctively tear out of his back to balance him so the impact merely digs his heels a little in the dirt.

The second the sun touches them, Len feels his wings burn. Despite immediately retracting them, he can't stop the small hiss of pain.

"Hey Barry," he grumbles.

Barry's clawing onto his shoulders in an instant. "What happened? Are your wings okay?"

"They're fine, kid," Len grunts, "but my shirt won't be if you keep grabbin' it."

Clyde and Mark, the only one of Len's dragons who hasn't gone on an afternoon flight, snap up their heads. Their eyes narrow in perfect unison.

"Ice and heat don't go well together, 's all," Len tells Barry. "Did you want somethin'?"

Barry butts his head against Len's cheek. "You gotta stop thinking about yourself like that," he says, thankfully knowing to keep quiet.

"Duly noted," Len drawls.

And not so quiet anymore. "I'm serious!"

Sara, who'd respectfully gone towards where Lisa was just finishing her lunch, grins over her shoulder at Barry's shout. "Sounds like you made the little guy mad!"

Barry bristles. "When will everyone stop calling me that?"

Len dutifully replies, "When it stops being funny."

"...it's never gonna stop, is it?"

"Let's just say you shouldn't be  _shocked_ if it doesn't."

Barry bangs his head on Len's shoulder pad. For the first time that morning, Len's trademark smirk quirks his mouth.

"Alright, boys," Sara calls, "we're about to take Lisa's new saddle for a spin."

Said saddle is strapped on by the dragon herself; it's made of a thinner material that's perfect for summer, dyed a medium shade of brown that makes the scales around it shine more vividly. Lisa's been preening about it since last night, when Sara surprised her with it. Dragons take surprise gifts to new heights, Len has found.

Lisa lifts Sara onto her back. "Try not to get into trouble without me, Lenny!"

Falling into old habits from the shell, Len mimics her wink and tone: "No promises, sis."

A fresh summer wind blows over the mountains just in time for Lisa to leap into the air. She needs only to fan out her wings, and soon enough she looks about as small as Barry in the sky.

"Stop calling me small!"

 

 

It's after dusk. Mick and Caitlin still haven't returned.

Len, looking deceptively relaxed in the pleasantly cool center of Clyde's coil, keeps his eyes on the mountain tops. Above his propped feet, the sky looms red. Not just orange or scarlet, like most sunsets in Central: this is blood red, pure crimson, and while Len likes to think himself a practical man, he's also open-minded to things like omens. Judging by Cisco's nervous fidgets across the field, this definitely isn't good.

Clyde curls further in on himself to rest his head on Len's lap. As Len absently begins to stroke his thin fur ruff, he confirms the handler's suspicions: "Somethin's not right."

His brother slithers over to wrap around both of them, a protective position that's become customary for the Mardons. "It's not a storm," he assures. Then quickly amends, "Well, it's not a  _real_ storm."

"Feels like one," Clyde simplifies.

Len's eyes catch on a shadow above them. Before any dragon can crouch, he calls Barry's name.

"Now's not the time for wandering off," he says once his dragon's tucked safely against him, Clyde having turned away to be spoiled by his brother's nuzzles instead.

Barry's a sparking firefly in the red light. He whispers urgently, "I thought I saw something."

Heads swivel towards them.

"What was it?" Len demands.

Unlike their usual exchanges, images flash instead of trickle through Len's mind: Shadows against the bleeding sun. Although slowed by Barry's speed, they're no less misshapen and incoherent even in draconic vision. They're headed straight for the fort.

"Kendra," Len barks, surging to his feet, "we're gonna go scouting."

Cooled enough by his time with Clyde, Len allows his scales to chafe through his leggings so he can forgo a saddle. Kendra has far more feathers than scales, but they're only marginally softer.

She boosts him onto her back. Soon enough, she's taken them into the clouds, feathers aiding their speed of ascent. Barry, by unspoken agreement, appears next to them in a bolt of lightning.

Len slides down Kendra's leg, landing in her ready paw. Concealed by their natural cover, they're free to peer at their potential assailants through the cloud's edges.

It takes one closer look, and Kendra's birdlike cry is calling for Ray.

 

 

Ray, having grown into a size to rival Mick, gives the laboring dragon a reprieve as he swoops under his burden from the other side.

"About fucking time!" Mick snarls through heavy pants.

Caitlin adjusts her position on top of the unconscious stranger. "A little warning would've been nice," is all she mutters before resuming her stitching. Because a lamia will stop hissing the day Caitlin Snow goes anywhere without a purse full of medical equipment.

Len leaps from Kendra's back onto Mick's. Whatever relief he'd had from earlier has vanished in the sinking sun's direct path, forcing him to climb up Mick's neck without the reassurance of his wings. It's nothing he hasn't done before, but now he's acutely aware of how much he's come to rely on his emergence; a problem for later.

Mick blows out a sharp sizzle of flame as Len's powers, though weakened, seeps into his scales enough to propel him the rest of the way. The three dragons hit the ground with enough force to make the humans stumble from twenty feet away.

Joe has someone turn on the outside lights. As soon as they do, everyone suddenly sees why their biggest heavy-weight is collapsing in a heap.

This dragon is twice his size.

On instinct, Barry makes himself bigger the only way he knows how. The instant he's on human feet, he speeds in front of where Len's landed, wings and talons at the ready. Sierra's forelegs bracket both of them from either side, tail reaching around Lisa as well.

Meanwhile, Jax is crooning over Mick, seemingly unaware of his proximity to such a large beast. Mick can barely peel an eye open, much less mumble something like reassurance.

"Hey!" Caitlin shouts, gaining everyone's shocked stares. Her expression is thunderous. "Get my dragon water!"

This gets Jax's attention. He volunteers, cajoling a winded Ray for assistance.

"And a cow!" Caitlin adds. Once she has Jax's acquiescence, she whips back to what looks to be every resident of Central Fortress.

"I'm gonna need a bigger medical table."

 

 

Between Shawna and Caitlin, the gargantuan dragon is revived, but only long enough to take a little water. Once she's sure they won't die in the night, Caitlin sets a watch just in case. Then she's hurrying to Mick's side, not bothering to remove her gloves or lab coat.

Len and a few other experienced handlers are called to try and identify their new arrival. Iris trots towards the back; while short for a centaur, she's still taller than the humans, giving her a better view. After midnight, the air is cool; Len takes to the air to get a birds-eye view. Sara and Clarissa take the mouth, while Wally speeds onto the back.

"Definitely older than most of what we've got," Clarissa reports to Joe, though everyone else has stayed awake to listen too. "At least I think so."

Joe raises his eyebrow. "You  _think_ so?"

"Well, Director, you see these gums? Healthy, fit for a young one. But these teeth..."

Sara finishes, "We've never seen anything like them. Not in this time period, at least. I'd say ancestor to something like a Sea or a Poison, but the body shape's clearly not fit for swimming, and Poisons," gesturing to Lisa, who obligingly opens her mouth, "have ducts in their gums and under the tongue. While the early creatures that would become Lisa's type didn't have those, they still dripped the stuff uncontrollably." There's nothing but air coming from this dragon's mouth.

"And they're far too thin for either," Clarissa adds. "If one of you wouldn't mind holding these open?"

Wells does so. He, and everyone watching, is amazed when everything's fully revealed: thin, jagged teeth, longer at the top, short at the bottom, poking out of thick black gums that do resemble a Poison's like Sara said, but they don't have the same bulk that signifies the poison ducts.

The dragon fidgets in their sleep from the attention. Wells murmurs a polite apology and retreats.

"Whatever sort of dragon this is, Director," Clarissa says, "they're made to tear into things. The bottom set of teeth most likely act as a foothold while the upper set cut through the prey like butter. I've seen plenty of jaws in my time, but these are  _sharp_."

Suddenly, Wally's back on the ground. "I can't even guess," he admits. "This hide's definitely fresh, but the size alone says prehistoric. At the same time, those wings are  _advanced_. They feel like they're part of a machine under the scales, and the ends of 'em?" he points to said end. "That's not a talon. That's a  _blade_. And there aren't any surgical scars; that thing's all natural."

"How can a dragon be born with a blade in its wing?" Joe asks. No dragon this size could possibly have their wings surgically attached;  _somebody_ would've heard about it, and there are not apparent surgical scars or tenderness when Wally's asked just in case.

"That's what I said:  _advanced_."

Iris returns then. "Born with a receptive organ," she says, "as for everything else, from what I've heard I'm just as lost as you are. The legs are too thin to be considered prehistoric, but those talons are the same ones as draconic ancestors. I wrote a whole article about the lineage of dragons, and what you're seeing there is from some of the very first."

Len takes that moment to land. "Prehistoric and never before seen," he drawls, "how  _fascinating_."

"What do you got?" Joe asks.

"Come-come now West, a little  _please_ never hurt anyone."

Sara crosses her arms. "Tell us."

Len shrugs a shoulder. "I just did. The thin, slightly turned scales say Jurassic Park, long, adapted wings with those blades say Star Trek, and serrated spikes along the tail say both."

The crowd murmurs. Joe says, "Both? How can they be both?"

"For once,  _Director_ , your guess is good as mine. The tail's enormous, like them, which suggests Jurassic Park. But it's thinner, sleek; built for smooth direction in the air. Serrated spikes, Jurassic Park again. But, the tail end's where it gets  _fascinating_. If Raymond would be so kind."

Ray grows, until he can pull the tail over without disturbing the dragon. Once he's back to his original fifty feet, Len makes an dramatic gesture at the tail.

Sara's the first to break the silence: "What... _is_ that?"

Up close, the tail-end is diamond-shaped, but surrounded by what seem to be unattached squares. These squares are small, protecting the center like an imperfect cocoon.

Len approaches. He touches it; despite its eerie blue luminescence, it appears solid.

"That, Sara," he says—and elongates his talons to attack.

Yet as everyone takes a step forward...Len's claws go right through, harmless. "That is a hologram that can solidify. No surgical scars, either."

A weak rumble jolts them all.

The dragon's eyes peek open, half-lidded. Their eyes are so pale a blue they almost appear invisible against the white. Pupiless, yet no cataracts are present; another strange trait from draconic ancestors, long before they integrated with humans.

At the same time, the dragon mutters in perfect, albeit hoarse, English: "Water...please..."

Their accent sounds American, middle-pitched, and female, gentle as it is intimidating. Constance and Sierra dip the biggest container the fort's got into the nearby lake.

"Thank...thank you," the dragon whispers as the females slowly dip to water into their awaiting mouth. They drink at a likewise sluggish pace in spite of their desperate swallows.

After another tub, they finally turn away. Barry, after hearing the kindness in their voice and seeing how weak they are, feels guilty for having antagonized them earlier.

Iris reaches out a cautious hand. When the dragon doesn't protest, she pets the underside of their jaw and murmurs, "Can you tell us your name?"

The dragon lets out a feeble hum. "Certainly," she breathes. "I—am Gideon."

Barry flies onto their enormous cheek bone. He looks like a flee on a dog. "That's a nice name," he says.

Suddenly, Gideon's eyes widen. "Oh," they whisper, "Barry Allen?"

Len's gaze sharpens.

Barry reels. "Well. Uh, yeah. I'm sorry, have we met before?"

Gideon sighs, oddly forlorn. "Not...no. But—but I  _have_ found you."

"You were looking for me?"

"Oh yes. I—have much to tell you. But," here, Gideon blinks slowly. By Len's count, that's the first time they've blinked since opening their eyes. "I...am sorry. I must rest."

Barry nuzzles them, though he doubts they can feel it with their difference of size. "Yeah, of course. We'll take care of you, Gideon."

If Len didn't know better, he'd say the dragon's rumble sounded like a hatchling being pulled under the comfort of their progenitor's wing.

"Thank you, Barry Allen."

Without another word, Gideon's eyes roll back. They're asleep in seconds.

Barry curls up where he is.  _I feel like I should stay,_ he tells Len.

_No._

The tiny dragon snuggles against Gideon's scales anyway.

_Barry. Fascinating as they are, we don't know a thing about them, or why they've been looking for you. Get down._

_I'm staying._

The stern warning pulsing behind those words stiffens Len's spine. Barry immediately smooths them over with apologetic warmth.

_I just...I have to,_ he offers weakly.

Sara sidles up next to Len. "He staying?" she murmurs.

"He's stubborn as he's tiny," Len snarks. Barry's eyes narrow at him.

Sara shrugs, "Well, Lisa not going until you are. And since you're not—come on," she says at Len's look, "you definitely are; don't pull that shit with me—we'll stay too."

Lisa sits, prim and pretty, closer to the fort proper but not at all far from Gideon and by extension Barry. With a nod to Len, Sara goes to her dragon as she lies down on the still-warm grass.

After a tense minute, Len reluctantly unfurls his wings and quietly flies to Barry's side. Gideon's bone alone is more than wide enough for him to lie on, but he still hovers a moment. Barry stares up at him, waiting.

Finally, Len releases a silent sigh and takes his time landing. The extra activity pumps his wings, but training's made him used to the strain.

Without meaning to, he holds his breath. Gideon doesn't twitch.

Len lies on his back. The scales underneath feel like cool metal but are firmly cushioned like many dragons' hides. Barry crawls onto his torso, snuggling under his chin.

_You better be right about this one, kid._


	2. "Time travel was once considered scientific heresy, and I used to avoid talking about it for fear of being labelled a 'crank.'"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some anomalies are discussed, as well as a missing captain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (quote by Stephen Hawking)
> 
> lmao hey there

Mick wakes sorer than he can ever remember being. Judging by the sunlight at the edge of his vision, he's slept a while, but he's still exhausted. Dimly, his instincts register _Home_ ,  _Mate,_ _Progeny_ , and  _Clan_ , two of which have stretched their wings as far as they'll go to try and blanket his back, while  _Mate_ lies between his shoulder joints, a perfect relief of cold against the dull pain.

With his head still fuzzy, Mick has half a mind to go right back to sleep. They're doin' a good job of lookin' out for him, and he's  _tired_. But there's something that starting to niggle at his brain. Something that makes him snuffle and rumble as it worms its way around.

"Mick?" Jax says, "You with us, man?"

What is it? What's not right here? Missing, something's...

The rest of his clan. Len, Lisa. Where are they?

_Fog―mourning―screeching―vanished―_

Beverly roars his name with all the authority of her years. Mick dimly realizes that he's shoved himself up. Jax has pinned himself on his back as if he could weigh Mick down, Caitlin having dissolved into frost, only to reappear on his snout.

"Mick," Caitlin says, one hand up, "it's alright, sweetheart. We're in our cave."

Mick shudders. He's weaker than a sick hatchling. All too soon, he's crashing back on his stomach with an annoyed growl. Caitlin wraps around his tusk just in time to brace for the impact.

"How'd you get me here?" he asks.

"Raymond's about as worn out as you," Beverly says.

Great. Now he owes Haircut.

"That dragon," he says.

"Where we left 'em," Jax replies, slithering off Mick to curl under a trembling wing, "Nobody's called, so I'm guessin' they're not up yet."

Mick remembers now: flying with Caitlin, eyeing the basket of food she brought with her favorite purse. Nice day. Caitlin freezing bits of cloud and moulding shapes as usual. They'd flown to a nice mountain, settled at one of the flatter parts. Caitlin insisted on a  _date_ ―though "picnic" had been the word she used―and Mick'd shifted to eat with her.

Mick finished his food. Digested. Got bored. Caitlin'd smiled at him and urged him to go flying, so he went, leaving her to take over the whole blanket.

Turned out, they hadn't been so far from the Vanishing Point. Or maybe they had, and he'd just flown there anyway. Free roaming flights somehow always took Mick there, ever since he dove through it.

Clawing through the fog, clear to no one else but him, had been the biggest monster he'd ever seen. And suddenly his head burst with―he didn't even know what―

"Mick? Mick!"

Mick's eyes cross a little to look at Caitlin. She's definitely worried, always is whenever he thinks about the Vanishing Point.

"Where did you find that dragon?" she asks.

 

Out of habit, Len wakes with the dawn. His eyes immediately pin down Lisa, Barry, Sara, and his mother, each of them producing their own light in the gentle pinks and purples.

Barry's stretched the length of Len's torso, limbs thrown out to the sides and twitching every few seconds. He's gotten so used to sleeping under Len's shirt that he ends up a dragon starfish no matter where he's bedded down. Len's throat and chin tingle with his soft staticky breaths.

Sierra quietly approaches. Tension Len hadn't realized he'd already had seeps from him as she gently nuzzles his head and murmurs, "Good mornin', baby."

(Sometimes Len looks at her and can't believe she's real. His _mother_.)

A tiny smile peeks on Len's face. He nuzzles back, careful of her scales. "Hey, Mom."

"You're a good handler, staying with your dragon like this." The praise warms Len to his toes. "How about after all this is over, I'll help you with this nasty heat? You should be able to fly in any season, honey."

Despite the unfamiliar dragon under him, Len relaxes. He puts his forehead against Sierra's snout and closes his eyes. "Okay."

She hums low in her belly. It's just enough to wake Barry. Len reluctantly pulls away to lift him up by his forearms [like a cat](http://i.imgur.com/nUlrT2T.jpg).

Face squished a little from the hold, Barry grumbles and and fidgets. "What's goin' on?"

"Giant ancient future dragon," Len drawls, "Ring any bells?"

Barry's eyes fly open. "Oh."

"Yeah. 'Oh.'"

Sierra chuckles. "Well, you boys seem just fine. I'm gonna get some breakfast. Any requests?" Len opens his mouth to refuse. "So, pig for you, son, and cattle for Barry. Wonderful!"

Len's still not quite used to having a mom.

When Sierra's gone, Gideon stirs.

"Barry Allen?" she murmurs.

While Len had shot to his feet, Barry wriggles from his arms and buzzes happily around Gideon's eye. "I'm here. How are you feeling?"

"Much improved, thank you. But my passenger is in need of supplies."

"Your...passenger?"

"Yes. My internal systems were heavily damaged. Replicators, among other elements, are torn. In my state, I have not been able to properly allow him to disembark."

"Disembark," Len repeats flatly.

Gideon blinks. "Leonard Snart?"

"How d'you know my name?"

"Why are you here?"

Barry tilts his head. "It's alright. He's my handler."

Gideon rears their head. Thankfully it's still cool enough for Len to catch himself in the air.

"Where is Iris West?" they ask, "I heard her when I arrived."

"I'm sure she'll come out soon? Why?"

Gideon mutters something about 'damages.' "I require a mechanic once I release my passenger. Tell me, do you have Cisco Ramon or Jefferson Jackson here?"

"We've got both," Len says. "How do you know they're mechanics?"

"There is much I know, Leonard Snart, but only so much I can tell you."

"Well ain't  _that_ trustworthy?"

"Len!" Barry hisses.

"You have emerged," Gideon says.

"What's it to you?" Len snaps.

Gideon shakes their head. "My passenger first."

They crouch low to the ground and press a large paw against their chest. There's a click, a hiss, and―

Barry's jaw drops. "What the..."

Gideon is, apparently, not just a dragon. They're a  _ship_. A gunmetal gray plank eases to the ground, revealing something that looks like a futuristic cargo bay. Lights are on in the ceiling; they look fluorescent, but not nearly as grating.

And down the plank comes―

" _Jonah Hex_?!"

The man's nose face scrunches a bit at Barry's shriek. There's no denying it: he's even wearing the same soldier/cowboy get-up as sketches depict, and Len's pretty sure that scar can't be easily replicated.

This is Jonah Hex, pioneer to human-dragon relations and, unless Len's eyes are deceiving him, very much alive. Even though, according to historical records, he died in 1881.

"Y'know my name?" Hex says. His accent is heavy and rough.

"What's going on?" Lisa calls.

"Is that  _Jonah Hex_?" Sara cries.

"Seems like everybody knows my name," Hex says. "Y'have me at a disadvantage. Though I recognize the little fella―Gideon showed me plenty of you, Allen."

"Jonah Hex knows my name!" Barry whispers in Len's ear.

Len scowls. " _How_?"

Gideon closes up behind Hex. "I require repairs before any information can be shared."

"Not good enough," Len says.

Barry nudges his cheek. "It's good enough for me." _Len. Please._

Len scowls.  _You should know better than this, Barry._

_I'll stay with you the whole time. I promise._

"You have a bond," Gideon murmurs. They sound awed.

Len feels his wings arch threateningly. "How do you know?"

"I am detecting the frequency that correlates with telepathic communication. When did you bond?"

"None of your business. Somebody wanna get the Director?"

Barry takes the hint and keeps silent, curling on the customary spot on his handler's shoulders. Len doesn't relax.

Hex holds out his hand. "Guess we c'n start with introducin' ourselves. What's your name?"

"Leonard Snart," Len replies.

"Snart, me n' my friend here are in a spot 'a trouble. Not just with needin' repairs neither. Her captain's gone missin'."

"Captain?" Sara says.

"Yes, ma'am. We got snatched up on a flight. One of your boys helped us out, but not buhfore my partner was nabbed."

Jax skids into a landing, cutting off any reply.

"How's Mick?" Len asks.

"Tired, but okay," Jax says, "Have they told you where they came from?" He does a double-take. " _Jonah Hex_?"

"Where did you come from?" Len demands.

Gideon promptly replies, "We were saved from the Vanishing Point."

Barry recoils. "How'd you get  _there_?"

"I'll tell yah all about it," Hex says, "soon as y'get Gideon a mechanic."

"Mr. Jackson," Gideon says, "if you please."

"Wha―? How'd you know I'm a mechanic?" the great dragon opens again. " _Whoa_!"

Len rolls his eyes. "Get a wrench, kid."

 

Joe and Iris arrive to interrogate Hex. Gideon greets Iris with a familiarity to almost rival the way they address Barry, with none of the hesitance they give Len. Len's not likin' this one bit.

Before Hex can say anything, Len asks, "So how long have you been travelling through time?" To all the blank faces, he says, "Come on. Guy from the late nineteenth century showin' up in the present? Big dragon who's also clearly a ship and knows the fort? Betcha the Vanishing Point's got somethin' to do with time travel too, 'specially after what it did to Mick."

Nobody talks about those horrific two months, especially Len, making his audience take him seriously.

"You're a clever one, ain't yah?" Hex says with a smile.

Len feels a thrill in spite of himself. "So time travel's a thing, huh?"

"Yessir it is. Gideon here's a synthetic-grown beast. My partner saved my life n' took me along."

Iris looks up at Gideon from where she's idly stroking the dragon's snout. Gideon confirms Hex's words.

"So when you act like you know us," Iris says, "you actually do?"

"Future selves, yes," Gideon replies, "though I suspect we have landed in an alternate timeline due to the Vanishing Point's interference. There are―discrepancies between my memory and this present."

"Like Iris is supposed to be bonded to Barry," Len says bitterly, "instead of me."

"What?" Barry cries, "No way. There's no way!"

"Well?" Len snaps, "Can't tell us about the future, but I'm guessin' you can talk about the past."

Gideon looks to Barry. They watch Barry's pleading eyes only a moment before carefully replying, "Yes. My Iris West is bonded to my Barry Allen. Leonard Snart and his Rogues have obtained their own headquarters and clash daily with the law enforcement."

"Which means my sister was never accepted into this fort," Len surmises.

"No. None of your criminal backgrounds were pardoned."

So Lisa had been a criminal at ten. Meaning, in Gideon's timeline, something had prevented Len from stopping Lewis' bottle when she was seven. He remembers almost getting mugged that day, but he'd managed to dodge his way out of it. A whole alternate universe was created from that one twist?

Barry sparks, agitated. "But―I came out of the shell for  _Len_! He's mine!" Possessive currents thrum through Len's brain. "I love my family, but I can't imagine picking anybody else!"

"Mick Rory and Leonard Snart are bonded in my time," Gideon says. Barry hisses against Len's throat.

"They used to be," Joe says, "but Dr. Caitlin Snow joined the fort on Dr. Wells' recommendation. She'd lost her dragon in the field workin' for Mercury Inc. She and Rory bonded instead."

"Caitlin Snow...and Mr. Rory?" Gideon murmurs. They sound genuinely confused.

Sara steps forward. "So wait. Does that mean―Lisa never took my harness?"

More confusion. "No, Ms. Lance. You have told me time and again that riding dragons was something you would never do."

Pain jabs Len's sibling bond, drawing him to his sister's side. Sara looks as shell-shocked as Lisa feels.

"But that's all in  _your_ time," Len says, "not ours. So how do we get your captain back and get you on your way?"

Gideon considers this. "My captain will be at the bottom of the Vanishing Point. But even when my repairs are complete, I will be unable to locate him alone. I need an experienced flyer. Mr. Rory was able to see my distress and retrieve me."

Dreaded silence.

 _We can't_ , Barry whispers.

 _We_ won't _,_ Len growls,  _he's had enough of that._

"Please," Gideon says, "allow me to speak to Mr. Rory."

"No," Len replies.

"But―"

"Gideon," Barry says, "we'll help you, okay? But. But we can't do that. There must be another way."

"There ain't no other way," Hex says, "Vanishin' Point's only entry is from the top. Got no sense 'a time. My partner could be feelin' years pass instead 'a hours."

"We know," Len says tightly, "but we ain't lettin' Mick back there."

"We'll find another way," Barry repeats.

The ground trembles with a heavy-weight's landing.

"Nah," Mick says, "I'll do it."

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
